


Light

by Ozzyyy



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Adoptive Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy Issues, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Niki | Nihachu, Older Sibling Niki | Nihachu, Ranboo and Niki | Nihachu are siblings, Ranboo-centric (Video Blogging RPF), Sick Character, Sickfic, lets just tag it you know, pop off, this one is sad but also way more daddy issues then i intended on showing off--
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 07:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ozzyyy/pseuds/Ozzyyy
Summary: Ranboo centric fic lets gooooo--just a tired boyo stuck out in the rain with memory problems and daddy issues. no, im not projecting. shut up.
Relationships: Ranboo & Philza
Comments: 76
Kudos: 945





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> tw: negative self talk, discussion of past abuse/neglect, denying of illness
> 
> i kind of forgot. ranboo was enderman.... doesnt like rain........ woop. also i swear a lot but ranboo doesnt swear like, at all, so im sorry! man i just like writing philza being the dad to every kid on that server to make up for my lack of father huh-- 
> 
> this is also my first time kIND of writing BBH so, im sorry if his characterization is a little wonky. i also dont watch a ton of his content so. agh. 
> 
> as always, if the cc's are uncomfortable with my depiction of their character, i will take down the fic for their comfort. it's the least i can do :)

To say Ranboo was having a rough day would be an understatement, and he realizes that as soon as his chin hits solidly with exposed cobble. 

Pain chews up the nerves on his lower face, his teeth clacking together with a loud clatter (he hopes they haven't chipped).

It's raining, to add worse to wear. Cold pellets of water soaking through his now frigid fitted suit and numbing both sides of his face. Even the more nether based side, which was consistently warmer than the right. It might as well have been acid with the way it singed him. 

He lets out a croak, not verbalizing any words, only general discomfort. Ranboo pushes himself to his elbows, back onto his knees, and wobbles to his feet. 

Damn, he can barely feel his goddamn hands or feet, the only proof that they work is that he was stable in the first place. Stepping felt like he was without limbs, or on stilts. But he was standing, thank god, he was standing. 

His crown fell a long time ago, but he moves to adjust it anyway. Muscle memory. 

His brain was so foggy, he couldn't even remember why he was out here in the forest to begin with. He started that journey with such confidence. He had so much more armor too-- where did it go? His mind drifts across blurred memories of saying goodbye to Niki, the ice cream shop, the clouds gaining overhead, none of his decent into the random forest he was in. 

Ranboo grips his hair tight and bites back a frustrated shout. His amnesia was getting worse with each passing day and now he was walking places and not knowing why. His sister would be furious. He had promised Niki that he'd tell her when it got bad. She'd been so worried about his health, she almost didn't let him onto the server except on one condition; He doesn't keep her in the dark about things like this. And Ranboo knows that if he tells her this mess of a situation, he's out for sure. 

But he didn't want to leave yet-- he didn't want to get help yet. 

No, not yet. He dips into his inventory and pulls out his rusted and damaged iron axe. He must have been out here for wood. For the build! For his and Fundy's ice cream shop, that's right!

'See? Not that bad.' He thinks, ego bursting in his chest. 

He swings the axe into the wood, and as the trunk falls over, he tries to think harder about where he was. He could remember, honestly, he just needed to try harder. That what they all said, right? If you just try harder, you'll remember. 

He moves to another tree. He couldn't be that far from home? Ran could smell the curling smoke that seemed ever present in L'manburg. And a quick glance around showed more signs of life-- misplaced blocks and out of character two block towers. Maybe he was near spawn. 

Another swing. Ranboo knows he lost his armor, so he should definitely head back home soon. But the breaking of branches and bark haze out any clawing insecurities. 

Twack. 

Did he take damage? Why did everything hurt? He was so taken by the frigid cold and numb in his extremities, it was barely noticeable at this point, but he could catch the tail ends of a persistent ache from a tweaked shoulder. Was that connected to how he lost his armor? 

Twack.

Focus on the task. Get the wood for the... something. He's out here, getting logs, for something. And once he remembers what it was, he'll never forget again. Niki doesn't have anything to worry about. 

Twack. 

Jesus, what time was it? He could barely see his hands in front of his face, that couldn't be a good sign. He was out at night, in the freezing rain, looking for wood? His brain swarms once again, the flurry of thoughts like a bee's nest in his skull. Buzzing, searching, for answers he couldn't give. 

He just needs it all to stop, to pause, but even the brief respite that constant movement gave him, he couldn't outrun it. Waves of nausea and anxiety plummeting him into a depth of uncertainty. 

Ranboo stops, teeth grit and ground together as he shoves his face into his hands. Hot tears of frustration curl under his eyes. His axe fell, when did it fall? Where was he? What the hell was going on? Grasping at the little information he had was akin to clasping hands around candle smoke. He could only reach and pray. 

He sinks to his knees and pulls himself tight to his body, trying to retain any warmth in the freezing cold. The harder his breathing, the harder it is to keep his precious memories close. Everything tilts like a spinney top, distorting his vision, forcing his eyes shut. 

And he just feels so alone. 

"Er-- Shit, ah..." There's a muffled sound and some awkward throat clearing, "Ren--or-- Ranboo, right?" 

Ran raises his gaze, vision bleary, and tries to blink the form in front of him into life. 

He nods and sniffles. Ran is sure he knows this guy-- Niki's talked about him before. Green and white striped hat, dark grey, almost black, wings. Even his meek expression was another aspect of Niki's description. 

"Philza." Ranboo tries, voice hoarse. 

The other's face immediately winces, "Just Phil." 

Ran nods absentmindedly and looks back to the sodden dirt in front of him. No need to press the topic, then. He'd move along soon enough. 

"Are you lost?" Phil asks, taking another tentative step forward. 

"Pass." Ran responds. 

"Pass?" 

"I don't know how to answer that." He explains, shrugging. 

"Alright... do you know where you are?" 

"Dream SMP." That one was easy. 

"I meant like... city. Country." 

Ran looks around and tries desperately to see a landmark he remembers. He sees a llama spinning on a roller cart but that could be at least three places, if he knows Karl well enough. There's no walls. Were walls a big part of understanding where he was? 

Ran's inspecting the buildings for cohesive decoration when Phil interrupts, "This is taking way longer than I'd consider normal." 

"We're near..." Ran swallows hard around the rock in his throat, "We--I-I know that building, I think." He points in a general direction. He wants to pass this question too. 

"Ranboo," Phil steps in again, crouching down and stretching his wings out to expand over Ran's head. It's so much warmer when you're not being drenched by the rain, "You're fuckin' shaking, mate." 

Ran clenches his hands tighter on his forearms. He didn't even realize, but now it's abundantly clear that the shudders through his body aren't from some random earthquake. And he realizes, as he's now out of the rain, the trails of wetness on his cheeks haven't stopped or slowed. 

"I don't know how I got here." Ran breaks, voice cracking as his eyes well up with tears again, "I-I know the server, I know the cities, but I-I don't know how I got here, I don't know when I got here, I don't even know why I left. I-I had armor-- I--" 

Phil raises a hand to slow his relentless venting and places his warm palm against Ran's forearm, "Take a deep breath, son, it'll be okay." 

Ran tries his best, and after a few seconds of following Phil's deep breathing reminders, he sucks in chilly air and feels his lungs expand to their full capacity. 

"I'm scared." He whispers, a confession. 

"Don't be. I'm not gonna hurt you. No one is. Can't exactly call a shivering kid in the rain a threat, can we?" Phil clears his throat, "We're not far from L'manburg, I was walking to Techno, so you strafed pretty far left, but you can still see the city. You can sit at my place while I call up Niki and Bad." 

"B-Bad?" Niki he could understand. As much as he would lament seeing her upset, she'd be a welcomed familiar face, (He's never forgotten her). But Bad? 

Phil's eyes trace over Ranboo's form and his expression crumbles from depressed to despair, though his voice remains steady, "Yes. Medical attention. It's cold out here. I don't know how long you've been sat in the rain, you could get a cold." 

"I don't want to bother anyone!" Ran blubbers, tensing. 

Phil, now close enough to wrap his wings around the boy, raises his palms up in a placating manner, "You aren't, I promise. You aren't bothering anyone with needin' some attention." 

The word hits Ranboo harder than he had hoped. Attention. Like the thing everyone teased him and mocked him for being such a glutton for. Oh, Ranboo just wants attention. He's being dramatic again. His jaw sets with the painful reminder. 

"Can I pick you up? Or can you walk?" 

"Walk!" Ranboo says almost immediately, scrambling to his feet only to keel over when he remembers the loss of feeling in his extremities again. He flails, holding himself up by the trunk of a tree. He dashes at his cheeks to wipe away overly dramatized tears that Phil didn't deserve to deal with, "See?" He mumbles, "M'good." 

Phil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before walking over and scooping the boy into his arms without much effort. Neither party protests, Ranboo secretly relieved he didn't have to wade through any more frigid mud. His heart pangs, however, at the minor annoyance being shown. 

"I'm sorry." He hiccups, "I'm really sorry, I know I'm being over dramatic and-and I'm-- I can walk, I didn't mean to--"

Phil's shaking his head, "You're not doing anything, mate. You've just stood, almost fell over, and then apologized to me for an action I did." 

Ranboo balks, mouth opening and closing with no words said. Tears well up in his vision, so he keeps his gaze at his pointed knees. He seals his lips and presses his cheek into the man's shoulder after a hesitant moment, feeling the warmth radiating off him to be comforting. Especially with a big fluffy cloak like his on. 

"I'm not-- I'm not attention-att-a-attention seeking." He stutters, eyes lidded and weepy. 

Phil pauses as he hoists the boy into his arms to get a better grasp (a stab in his heart when he realizes how light Ranboo is, how familiar the hold is to Wilbur, to Techno, to Tommy--) and gently cards his hands through the back of the boy's hair. He turns and starts walking, keeping his wings above the two of them to remove any more onslaught of weather. 

"You aren't, I know you aren't." 

"You can leave me," Ran croaks, "I'll be fine." The statement feels forced, like out of politeness than actual want.

"You absolutely will fuckin' not. I'm not leaving," Phil bites back his frustration at the mere suggestion that he'd just leave someone to die in the fuckin' rain. A kid, no less, "Lets just get you home, yeah?" 

Ranboo tries to stay awake, knowing better than to just mindlessly use this opportunity to rest, like he had at all earned it. He had to keep up, talk to Phil, make sure he didn't regret finding him on the floor so that Ranboo didn't wake up a million miles from home from an angry encounter he missed the social cue of. 

It's easier said than done, he quickly realizes. With his shivering form up against Phil, he feels so much warmer. Not to mention, there's something homey about being near the man. He guesses that was just... a dad thing? But in a way, he felt safe here. 

He tries to swallow the bitter taste in the back of his throat, remembering his own father. Or rather, lack thereof. Niki was really all he had. 

Even with his best efforts, the drowsiness of dropping adrenaline kept him in a state between awake and asleep. Conscious enough to look and move, but not enough to truly comprehend what he was saying. All he knows is that his environment grows from cold and windy to still and dry, all the way to pure heat. The sky turns into wooden rafters. 

Ranboo's eyes creak open at the sound of a roaring fireplace (when did he shut them?), and his fingers instinctively flex around the arms slowly setting him down on a plush couch. 

"Cold." He mumbles. His head is spinning faster than roller coasters, and if he let go now, he was worried he'd be lost. 

"I know, I know, it'll just be a few seconds. I'll be right back." 

Ranboo frowns, but he's too exhausted to fight back anyway. He lets himself slip from the man's grasp and into a pile of blankets, pulling them over his shivering form. He drags them over his hair, to which Phil chuckles, replacing the blanket hood with a towel. 

"I'm going to message Bad, n' come back with a bit of tea for the two of us. Right there," Phil directs Ranboo's chin to focus his gaze on a pile of clothes, folded by the fire, "Is a change of clothes. While I'm gone, change into those so you're not sitting in soaked stuff. They might be a little big, uh, but I think that's alright." 

Ranboo focuses hard on the clothes, but the warm feeling of Phil holding his chin is really too much for him right now. When did he last get a hug? He's been isolating himself from Niki so much, his physical touch went from several hugs a day to zero. 

"Okay." He says, though he's not entirely sure what he's doing. Phil, however, seems satisfied and dips out of his vision. Ranboo can barely hear him walk down some steps. 

It takes a lot of concentrated effort, but Ranboo stands from the couch and starts peeling off the wet clothes to pull on the dry counterparts. It's a pair of flannel pants, probably Phil's from the green tone, and a large grey knitted sweater that looks less like clothing and more like a wearable blanket. 

"Snuggie." Ranboo snorts as he tugs off his button up and suit coat. He's pulling on the sweater when Phil comes back up the stairs. He doesn't miss the stifled gasp the other makes when he sees the state of Ran's sides and back. 

(He pushes away the burning memory of getting those scars, of the explosions and swords, the bullies and the monsters. Niki had been there to defend him from most of anything, but that didn't mean she could always be there in time before real damage was done. Human based orphanages don't take well to freaks like him.)

Still, Ranboo's too tired and anxious to worry about anything except not passing away every second, so he completes getting dressed and nearly topples back onto the couch. Phil's turned away, tapping away on his communicator. 

He's pulling the blankets back over his form as Phil announces, "Bad is comin' over ASAP, just difficult to navigate in the rain. Niki's... well, she's tied up with Puffy on a trip right now, but she seemed really worried, mate." 

Ranboo groans, the pull of guilt yanking hard at his heart. 

Phil drops down on the couch beside him, much to Ran's surprise, and pulls the boy by the shoulders into his side. 

(It's a sudden and protective move that Phil would defend as being only because the kid was cold, but he knows full well its because if he didn't bring himself within arm's length of the other, he'd run out into the storm to find whoever hurt this fucking kid and slaughter them.) 

And hell, he feels so much better relaxing into Phil's side than the hard arm of the couch. With the warm quilts and fire crackling away, Ranboo could dizzy himself in the comfort. 

Ranboo slurs out something incomprehensible, trying to voice his concerns about his wet hair on Phil's nice white shirt when he realizes his head has fallen to lay on his shoulder. 

Phil just shrugs, pushing at the boy's hair to slick it out of his face. The oddly split coloring was natural, Phil thinks, when he sees his hand pull back without any dye. Ranboo doesn't even protest anymore, huffing (with no real heat) and shuffling closer to encourage the touch. 

The fingers through his hair is just too much, and Ran feels the crocodile tears drip down his cheeks. He tries to rub them away, but Phil is there a second quicker and pulls his wrists away. The kid had already rubbed his face pink by dragging his palm and wrist across his face.

Carefully, gently, Phil wipes off the tears with his thumb and speaks softly to the boy.   
"Careful, your face is a little scuffed, I got it." 

Ran just wants to melt in the affection. He never really felt like he had a proper father. He'd said Niki was all he needed, but this felt so much better then the two of them trying desperately to heal in the dark corners of closets. Actual care from someone who wasn't also trying to pick up the pieces. 

"Hurts." Ranboo sniffs, burying his face in Phil's shirt. He's too tired to care anymore. 

"I know mate, Bad's on his way with the healing potion. It'll heal those lil' scuffs right up." 

"Can I-- Can I sleep? I don't wanna... make you upset." 

Phil feels like his heart shatters in his chest. He tries not to let his voice come out as strained as he says; "Yeah, of course, bud. I'll be right here to wake you up when you need to take your medicine. You don't need to ask permission." 

"M'kay. 'D'hanks." Ranboo slurs, letting his eyes shut. 

"No problem, kid." Phil whispers, rubbing circles into the boy's nape. 

They sit like that for a while, Ranboo resting, his breathing finally normalized, and Phil trying his hardest not to make any noise that would wake the young man. He looked like he needed it. 

Bad arrives not too long after, opening the door for himself and walking in on Phil desperately pressing a finger to his lips, begging Bad not to wake the younger. 

Bad stifles his laughter, but nods. He whispers out instructions to Phil, how to care for him in the next few hours and his recovery, then dropping a milk carrier of health potions off on the counter, dropping one into Phil's open palm. 

"Collecting another kid?" Bad asks quietly, raising an eyebrow. 

"No." Phil scowls, "I'm not. Can't I care about someone without "adopting" them or whatever? S'rude, ya know!" 

Bad purses his lips, "I mean, yeah, you can... but you don't. Specifically." 

"Give me one example." 

"Quackity, Tubbo, Fundy, Niki, Purpled--" 

"I'm banning you from my house." 

Bad holds back another giggle, hiding his grin behind his hand, "Don't be ashamed of it, Phil. I think we all... need a family. You just have a big heart and lots of love to give. There's nothing wrong with that, I don't think."

"Hmph." Phil corks open the potion and waves off Bad, "Thanks for stopping by, mate. Give my love to Skeppy." 

Bad leaves with a wave and shuts the door quietly behind himself. 

Phil takes a deep breath and, while he resents the idea, wakes up Ranboo. It takes some gentle coaxing, but the boy eventually downs the sugary pink potion. As soon as he finishes, he places the bottle on the nearest counter and curls back into the blankets, his shivers soon subsiding. 

Instantly, he can see the small cuts and bruises that Ranboo accumulated soak up like evaporating water. The mere action, while little, causes that much less tensity in the younger's posture. 

He's not adopting another kid, Phil assures himself, settling in for a night of sleeping right here on this damn couch. 

He's not adopting another kid, he says as he knows his neck will creak tomorrow from the odd angle. 

He's not, honestly, he says, knowing full well the only reason he'll sleep in this uncomfortable form is because he refuses to wake up the boy cuddled to his side. 

Phil's eyes shut and he falls swiftly and soundly asleep, his arm resting atop the shoulders of the boy he's definitely not adopting the second he gets the chance. 


End file.
